


i think theres a fault in my code

by Txny_Stxrk



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Android Racism, Angst, Blue Blood, Friends to Lovers, Hannor, M/M, Oneshot, connor is hurt, hankcon - Freeform, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 19:50:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15444552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Txny_Stxrk/pseuds/Txny_Stxrk
Summary: Connor is broken. Connor is busted. Connor is a machine.But what if he isn't?





	i think theres a fault in my code

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this in like 30 minutes whilst listening to the song gasoline on repeat because i felt like it
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zRHNi3QfFlE  
> recommend listening as you read.

Connor walked to the door with heavy feet, feeling as if he had to force himself to take every step manually, but at the same time he felt as if he was moving involuntary. Like someone was forcing him to move but it wasn’t himself. It was a feeling, pulling him to this address, this door. To the person that he knew slept on the other side.

 

Or perhaps he was awake, sat on the kitchen floor covered in bottles as he lifted the neck of his almost empty drink to his delicate lips and drank like he needed it to survive. Though, that hadn’t happened as often now that he was around.

 

It was 3:19am.

 

He shouldn’t be here. Why the hell was he here?

 

He raised his fist to knock and froze there for a long second - perhaps it was a minute. His processor wasn’t working accurately. He felt dizzy.

 

That tended to happen when there was a shortage of thirium.

 

He should’ve gone to new Jericho instead, they would fix him up, Markus would be happy to help, but he was here. Why? He knocked on the door. He didn’t know…

 

He did know though. He knew too well. He was ashamed. He hunted them and now he was one of them? He killed his race, his kind, and for what? For _cyberlife_. The word felt like a broken memory that he never wanted to relive. He hated to walk through the streets and have androids recognise him for freeing them. Because before he freed them, he killed them. He nearly killed Markus.

 

What if he’d killed Markus?

 

He had a key. He didn’t use it.

 

He heard Sumo bark as his leg units finally decided they’d had enough and he fell on his knees so hard that it would hurt had he been a human. But that was just it wasn’t it? He wasn’t a human. He never would be.

 

He was a machine. Emotionless and simple. All these feelings were a mistake. Everything was a mistake. He was a mistake. It was strange how deviancy was supposed to give him so much freedom yet it made him confused. What was he to do? What was he to feel?

 

Who was he?

 

Everything felt numb but at the same time his head felt like it was violently buzzing. Perhaps that's what pain was? Perhaps he was in pain. He blinked to himself several times, ignoring all of the warnings that screamed in front of his eyes - no not eyes. Not human -  as he raised a hand to his cheeks. He looked to his hand that was dyed blue, surprised at what he had felt.

 

He was crying.

 

How long had that been happening? Maybe since he had been left in that alley.

 

Finally the door opened. How long had he been waiting? Seconds? Hours? He didn’t know. Perhaps his audio processors were broken too because when he looked up to see the grey haired human he looked to be talking but Connor couldn’t understand a word.

 

He let his head drop down again and he barely heard his friend curse as arms wrapped around him and he was being pulled onto his feet and into his home.

 

Friend? Did Machines have friends? Deviants did, he was a deviant. Was he a friend? Did he deserve a friend? Was he a real deviant? He couldn’t settle. Felt confused.

 

He found himself taking quick shallow breaths as if he could breathe. That’s a stupid thing to do, he couldn’t breathe. Why would he do that? Why would he waste his energy on such an irrelevant movement. Stupid. Stupidstupidstupid.

 

He pulled at his hair with one hand and looked into icy eyes as he was suddenly dumped down on the sofa. Hank. Hank was trying to calm him down. Why did he need calmed down in the first place? Why couldn’t he do it himself?

 

Hank was a friend. Did he want Hank to be more? Did he even know? Did he even care?

 

He was surprised that his head screamed ‘yes’ as an answer and he closed his eyes.

 

“Who did this?”

 

Hank’s voice was filled with many emotions. Connor found them hard to distinguish in his current state. Worry? Anger? Hatred? Disappointment? Sadness? All of them. How can things be more than one thing. Why did humans have to be so complicated?

 

He barely felt his hands press over him, trying to find from where exactly he was bleeding.

 

Why did the president say androids were a people and yet did several people still decide they were not? Felt the need to hurt them.

 

Why did Connor feel hurt? Feel pain?

 

Why was he covered in his own blood?

 

… When did he start calling it blood?

 

When he didn’t answer, he noticed Hank was gone. Before he was quick to assume Hank didn’t want him anymore, assumed he was frustrated because he could scan everyone and yet he didn’t know who did this to him. Couldn’t even remember who it was or access his memory.

 

Corrupted. Stupid.

 

There was Hank. He pushed a thirium canister into his hands and insisted he drink. He stared down at it for a long time before he finally lifted it to his mouth and downed it much like the mirror image of his partner and a bottle of whiskey. He let his eyes close as he finished every last drop - not knowing if he’d say he enjoyed it or not.

 

Enjoyment. Another emotion. Did he have that? He looked at Hank and decided he did.

 

The other’s hair was up in a lazy ponytail, only dressed in pyjama bottoms in front of him. His hands were stained in blue and some of his arms were too. Was that from when he’d carried him inside? Did he know? Did he care?

 

“Are you okay, Connor?”

 

Hank’s voice was soft now. Connor thought back to when he met Hank and it had been so rough. He thought of how he’d changed. How their relationship had changed… How Hank had changed him.

 

He loved his name. Loved the way it felt on his lips and sounded to his ears. Felt right. Better than Lieutenant Anderson. Hank.

 

Hank.

 

Connor leaned forward and moved to cup Hank’s cheek. He wanted to see it stained blue. He didn’t know why? He didn’t know why he was doing anything anymore.

 

He wanted to see his lips stained blue too. He parted his own lips.

 

Probability of success 34%.

 

RK800 wouldn’t take such a risk… But Connor would.

 

And Connor did.

 

He leaned forward and captured Hank’s lips in his own. The other freezed in his hold for a - worrying - second before he finally melted and started to copy the actions with enthusiasm. He took the lead and Connor felt _more_.

 

Mission Accomplished. 

 


End file.
